


Ricochet

by Word_Devourer



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Character List Probably Incomplete, I'm not sure if Archive warnings apply, International Tensions, Necessarily, Or what ships will happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-03 23:42:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4118956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Word_Devourer/pseuds/Word_Devourer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The kingdoms of Prospit and Derse are at peace;  Technically, at least.  Two royals tied for being first in line for the throne, Rose and Dave, are sent to Prospit on a diplomatic mission.  Everything goes to hell pretty quickly though, as Dave might let his snark overtake his restraint, and Rose might do anything while she's unconscious, so Dave slips out of the Prospitian Castle, though Rose stays behind.  Even outside of the castle, Dave finds himself surrounded by equally dangerous politics.  Even back in Derse, Dirk and Roxy, slightly less royal than their siblings, are quickly discovering that peace may be in its last days.</p><p>All of these factors will collide, and riccochet, and it's anyone's guess what will happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Solving the Simplest Problems

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this story was the result of a world-building exercise. It seems to be a bit crazy and spread out, but seeing as it's a piece of fanfiction for homestuck, that's nothing new.

 

Time: 7:30 AM, 23rd of June, 1025 ST (Skaian Time)

Place: Just outside the Prospitian Castle

Spring was fading into summer in 1025 when Dersite Prince, Dave, went missing, on a diplomatic mission to Prospit.

 

The fog is fading away outside, to be replaced with an ashen smoke, as Dave and Rose, twin heirs to the throne of Derse, are escorted to a courtyard in the Prospitian castle.  Only one of them wants to be here.

Almost as soon as their escort leaves, Dave slips away, as they discussed earlier.  Rose stands alone in the courtyard.  Here, there is no fog, nor smoke, just a light mist, glowing in the light of dawn.  Normally, she wouldn’t let Dave leave like that, but there are extenuating circumstances at the moment.  First of all, she perceives more clearly than most what goes on behind the shades of Derse’s second-most enigmatic prince, and secondly, she believes she can use his vanishment to her advantage.

First of all, when the woman, or lady, more accurately, enters the courtyard seeking the twin Dersite heirs, finding only one puts her off balance.

“Hello,” says Rose, before she can inquire about anything, “I think you’ll find your current responsibility is to escort me to where I will stay for the duration of my visit.”

Rose is almost impressed by how quickly the lady rallies to, “Of course. It is right this way.”  Of course, points are deducted for how she needed a run up into ‘of,’ but still, pretty good.

Rose follows the other to her lodging, quite an elegant place, with the practically mandatory timepiece placed well, so anyone in the rooming complex can view it easily.

“Meals are traditionally held in the great hall,” says the lady, “though I would be equally happy to bring any food you request.  Furthermore, facilities you may need can be found out of the exit, to the left.”

Rose smiles, quietly.  She looks about the room, taking it in.  There’s a desk in one corner, an excellent bed, big enough for at least three, (though Rose doubts it was ever used for that purpose) and a table, around which at least 8 people could sit.  It’s nothing ornate, which is fine with Rose, because she does not expect to spend long in it.

She addresses the lady.  “Should I expect a different escort next time, or will you be working with me the whole time I am here?”

“I serve as long as you wish,” is the reply, as if memorized.  There are probably many difficult dignitaries, at whose pleasure they did not serve.  Rose smirks, back facing the woman, _‘I wonder how many servants I could dismiss before they would send someone important,’_ she thinks.  Outwardly, she turns and says, “Well then, I should know your name.”

“Kanaya Maryam,” says Kanaya Maryam.

 

Dave is now on the streets of the city of Prospit.  He is wearing recently washed clothes, which despite their recent inundation of soap are quickly becoming sooty in the air of the bustling city.  It’s actually better than Derse in that regard, though, as in Derse, not only are the streets covered in soot, they are dark to begin with, compounding the grime.  In Prospit, the streets, while not paved in gold, are made mostly of a sandstone-ish rock, which gives an almost gold shade to everything.  And of course, what isn’t rock is brass, by appearances, polished around the time these clothes were washed.  Wood is barely used in the city, as far as Dave can tell.

As he walks to his destination, he recalls how he managed to get this far.

_“You walk down corridor after corridor.  Thankfully, you don’t run into any servants, but you also don’t find an exit.  At this point, you should probably go back to the courtyard, and exit where you came in, but you don’t know where that is.  If only you could find someone you knew, but since that is at this point literally one person, and she’s…_

_“How is this even possible?  You are confronted with a familiar face, and not even the one of your twin.  You almost forgot._

_“You were walking around outside the castle walls, years ago, trying to assuage the boredom that started when Dirk stopped terrifying you around every corner.  You don’t miss it of course, but it kept things interesting.  Anyway, you came across a small plane, piloted by none other than the man in front of you._

_“’Dave!’ yells John, acting as if you were a friend he hadn’t seen in a long time.  Well, you guess that’s technically true.  Getting Dirk to fix the plane is a difficult enough task to merit some level of friendship, presumably.  Your face is utterly impassive, though, as he gives you a massive hug._

_“’What brings you to this part of the world?’ asks John.”_

For one so apparently unthinking, John figured out that Dave was leaving the castle, trying to stay undetected as best as possible in 10 seconds flat, and he resolved to get him out.  And besides getting him less conspicuous clothes, he even told Dave where he could stay safely.

That place, in fact, is just ahead of Dave.  It’s not well maintained.  It’s not even an inn.  It’s somebody’s house.  Dave doesn’t really understand why John gave him money to pay who he presumes is a friend.

He walks up to the door.

It slams open as he reaches out towards it.

“OH DON’T TELL ME, YOU WANT TO COMPLAIN THAT I SOLD ROTTEN FOOD, RIGHT?  _EVERYONE_ WANTS TO COMPLAIN ABOUT IT!  WELL GUESS WHAT, YOU IDIOT, THAT FOOD WASN’T ROTTEN, AND IF YOU HAD STOPPED TO THINK, YOU WOULD’VE REALIZED THAT YOU SAW ME KILL IT **_RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU_** , WHICH IF YOU ASK ME MAKES IT PRETTY CLEAR THAT IT, WAS NOT, **_ROTTEN!!_** ”

And just like that, Dave almost decides to walk away.  Still, at this point, he has little to no choice, as far as lodging.  He pulls out the money John gave him.

The man stares at it uncomprehendingly.  Presumably, he isn’t often offered moderately good sums of money.  He looks up at Dave, and light dawns, but it isn’t a friendly light.

“OH COME ON!  I just KNEW it.  I just KNEW that that idiot would start sending people here.  What am I, a safehouse owner?  NO!  I sell FOOD!”

Dave once again considers his options.  He’s caught.  He can’t leave.  Well, whatever, it was this or start a war.  Or, at least, probably start a war.  Dave begins to wonder if this is worth it.

The _not_ -safehouse owner sighs.  “Get inside.”

 

Rose snaps awake from a nap.  Half of her wants to return to sleep, and resume the dream she was having, and the other half wants to never sleep again, and maintain that dreams don’t exist.  She sighs.  Well, since she’s mostly awake, she supposes there’s nothing to lose by staying awake.

A. Melmensica is a powerful ally, but a costly one.  The insect creates what commoners peddle as ‘mind honey’.  Of course, Rose never speaks of this, but the fact remains…  It is commonly used as a stimulant for difficult thought, among those of an intellectual type.  The substance causes a level of stoicism, where emotions are replaced with crackling logic.  Thankfully for Rose, in general the drug is usually thought of as for commoners only, as to use it is considered a sign of weakness.  The only downside is that for some reason, all the pent up emotions have to go somewhere.  The intellect is replaced by cripplingly strong emotions, whether sadness, joy, rage, or something else.  Most of the time, these emotions flare off in dreams, but a lack of sleep, or an overdose, can lead to the nearly unthinkable conclusion of a total lack of thought about one’s actions.

Rose knows all of this, and knows that by this logic, she should either take a few days away from the use, or go back to sleep to allow the process to finish.  Unfortunately, the former is impossible, given that she needs it for her diplomatic mission, and the latter does not appeal.

Kanaya will arrive soon.  She’ll be bringing warning that first day’s meal will soon be beginning.  Best not be mid dream when she arrives, especially since speech is in no way encumbered during these emotional outbursts.  Rose sits down to work.  Encoding what she has learned sounds a good use of her time, she decides.

 

Far away, back in Derse’s own kingdom, someone wanders aimlessly.

Tied for third in line for the throne, yet another pair of twins pass throughout the dark corridors of the Dersite castle.

One passes further, and deeper than the other.

 

Roxy wanders down yet another flight of stairs.  She doesn’t know where she is, as she never has.  She always finds her way out.  Servants have taken to always carrying food on their person, in case they see Roxy, wandering the halls.  A few have even picked up on the need to carry some form of small, mildly alcoholic beverage.  The princess is always just the slightest bit drunk, presumably of her own volition, so they provide for the occasion.

Today, though, Roxy has a semi-conscious target.  Only one occupant of the castle sees her as she dazedly walks through halls, going to one, very specific, place.

Dirk is fiddling with some piece of mechanical stuff.  Looks like he’s doing something that isn’t sitting at a sheet of paper making schematics today.  He’s putting his designs to work.

The room is crowded, papers with the ink still wet are hanging from metal strings, half-completed projects sit in corners, and the forge for custom parts is burning hot today.  It’s one of Roxy’s favorite places in the whole palace.

Dirk looks over as Roxy walks in.  He nods, which is about all he acknowledges anyone with, if he notices them at all.  He seems to be trying to make something small.  The gears and cogs involved are tiny, and it’s just flat out spring power, rather than coal burning.  Of course, when he makes them, that’s always how they’re powered.  Anything bigger has to be made in the foundries.  Dirk tosses some small piece without looking, and it lands in Roxy’s hands.

“Let me guess,” he says, “You saw them.”

Although he has his glasses off for the close work, his back is turned so Roxy can’t see his expression.  She nods vaguely and says, “Yeah.”

“The plan wasn’t to create war machines,” says Dirk.

“I think it was,” says Roxy, the alcohol making a return, “’cause, if it wasn’t, why are they?”

Dirk doesn’t want to deal with an argument with Roxy while she’s drunk.  “You should probably go to sleep until you’re sober,” he says.

“Mm,” she says, curling up in a corner without arguing.  He has point.  7, if you count the ones on his glasses.  It’s warm in here, and there are piles of cloth just lying around for some reason.  The reason is that she does this every so often, and Dirk, like the servants, is prepared.

 

In this forge, it feels like time is meaningless.  Dirk sleeps when he wants to.  He finishes the miniature prototype of the design.  He slows the burn of the forge to the point where he can get some sleep for a while.  He doesn’t get some sleep, though.  He sits, and thinks.  Most people in the castle believe that’s what he always does.  They are wrong.  He thinks until he’s ready to act.  He’ll be ready soon.

Eventually, after some uncertain time, he fades into a contemplative sleep.

 

Miles and miles away, in Prospit, Rose has found her battleground.

 

Prospit is, by and large, a friend and ally to the world.  They trade with most of the countries around, whether that should be tar from the east or exotic feathers from the north.  Rose personally finds most of them transparent.  They few that provide any mystery slowly fade away, until there’s only one mystery remaining.  Of all the people here, one should be exceptionally exuberant.  He’s not.

John, prince of Prospit, doesn’t seem unhappy, just preoccupied.  He’s quieter than the reports suggest, nodding more than he talks.

Rose makes her way over, taking care to not look like you’re trying to.

She has the good luck to reach John just as he’s finishing a conversation.  Well, not luck, but whatever.

He looks up, and Rose spots a faint flicker of recognition.  They’re never met before, but somehow John knows her.

Or…

“Hello,” says Rose.

“Hi,” says John.

Rose decides that her best chance is probably to just do it.  “Have I met you?”

“What?  Oh. No.”  He’s telling the truth.

So, you haven’t been introduced, and he’s not interested enough by you to take notice of you heading over.  So, what could it be…?

Rose realizes he doesn’t recognize _her_ so he must recognize… Her attire?  Who else could be- Oh.

“Oh.  By the way, did you hear that Prince Dave found your city so enticing that he has decided to explore its streets?”

It’s like seeing a needle scratch across a record.  John’s face notably changes, although maybe only Rose would know what it means.  He knows Dave somehow.

He doesn’t respond to the question asked.  Instead, he just says, “It’s a great city.”

For Rose, it’s the last problem she needs solved on this level.  The next level is what Prospit is planning.  It could be anything, but it must be something.  Derse wouldn’t send her unless they suspected something, right?  What is it, then?

 


	2. How Wars Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanaya is terrified of sleeping Rose. Dave solves the problem of room and board. Dirk and Roxy prepare for a serious discussion. Tensions rise.

Chapter II

Time: 11:34 PM, 23rd of June, 1025 ST  
Place: ???

“The body lies on the floor, eyeless. Blood drips, and you laugh. How amusing that between you and this corpse, the one making more noise is the dead body. You have an idea. You reach out towards the body, and- Wait, what was that? You sit up.”

Kanaya steps inside the room. She heard yelling, from the room of the one she was charged to keep track of, so she went to listen at the door, only to hear laughter. Fearing some kind of poison, she entered.  
And now, the crown princess of Derse is walking towards her, wearing quite a modest dress that somehow does not look the part at the moment. Rose mutters something about “But wouldn’t you agree… Ah, yes.”  
Kanaya’s certainty that Rose is about to try to make out with her is nearing 100%. Suddenly, Rose freezes. “Why so scared,” she says. Kanaya realizes that this a different Rose. For one thing, the one from earlier wouldn’t be slowly reaching out a hand towards Kanaya’s face.  
Kanaya does what any sane person would do in the circumstances, and runs.

Rose stands there, confused. Why did she leave? Ah well. She returns to bed.  
“The Prospitian aide fades out of your dreams, as they slowly turn back to other directions.”

Roxy wakes up again. She has a terrible headache, and thinks that while earlier might not have been the time to talk, this might not be either.  
Dirk is already awake, or, at least, he woke up just as you did.  
“So, are you feeling better,” he asks.  
“Ugh. No,” Roxy says, perfectly truthfully.  
“Sensible. Either way, you wouldn’t feel better.”  
Roxy feels that it’s too early in the morning, or that she woke up too recently for this. Dirk lightly hammers a piece of metal, and the sound seems to set cracks in her head.  
“Either way…? Oh, that,” says Roxy. She remembers why she came here in the first place.

“You don’t know how you got here. You’ve been to the foundry, but this is something else; Something similar, underneath the palace. It seems an odd place at the time, although in retrospect the catacombs are where you were could hide almost anything.  
“Anyway. What you saw down there were like the machines you’ve seen on the streets, on the few occasions that your trips through the passages led you into the city proper. These machines were different, though. Some were designed to tunnel, while others were armed with blades, and still others with cannons. They were dangerous looking, and what’s more, you recognized many of Dirk’s own designs.  
“You made your way away as soon as possible. You needed to speak to Dirk, although the fog of alcohol made your purpose fuzzy. You mentioned what you saw to one person: a servant who you trust, on the grounds that you’re pretty sure she’s a disgraced Dersite spy trying to avoid attention. Nepeta, was her name if you recall correctly. You knew one thing though. Dirk would hear the whole thing from Nepeta before he heard it from you, saving you time on explanations.”

“I didn’t think they were making war machines.”  
That pings Roxy’s memory. He said that before. Right, yes. Okay, so…  
“And you’re still making them?” Roxy looks at the device in Dirks hand, and shakes her head, half jokingly, half seriously, “Low blow.”  
“Relax,” says Dirk. “I’m keeping it.”  
“So,” says Dirk, as he does when he hits the serious question in his fog of misleading ones. It’s not foggy today, as he finishes “What are we going to do?”

Dave is, for once, having trouble laying his hands on the subtle mockery that made him leave the castle.  
The problem, decides Dave, is that this peasant, or commoner, or whatever, Karkat, barrels straight through subtle jabs with his constant yelling, or if not yelling, then quiet snarling about how dare John just send some random person to him of all people, and how dare he even… Dave can’t fit a word in edgewise.  
Dave makes the mistake of asking about food.  
“What?” asks Karkat, brought at last out of his angry reverie, and into the present. You repeat your question about where you’ll get food, and whether he makes it.  
“HAH! Seriously!? You honestly think I’m going to get you food? Honestly, you’re dumber than the idiot Egg.”  
“Egg?” Dave asks.  
Karkat laughs, for the first time since you’ve seen him. It’s not a pretty sight. Karkat laughs with that throat scraping sound you’ve come to associate with a certain kind of cold, head thrown back.  
“John,” he says, “That idiot literally did not know what an egg looked like.”  
“So now you call him Egg?” Dave asks.  
“Yeah. Only problem is people talk about someone else with a name like that-“  
“Egg. You know someone else called Egg.”  
“Yes. He’s also an idiot, now shut up.”  
“Why?”  
“Because shut up. Shut up is why. Also, it’s ‘Eggs’ not Egg, and I don’t actually know him.”  
Ah, yes. Karkat’s logic truly cannot be argued with.  
Still, he’s not yelling so much now. Dave returns to the question.  
“Why is it so amusing that I wonder if you’re making food?”  
“Because I don’t want to. If you want to buy food from me, fine, or if you want to buy it from somewhere else, whatever, but don’t go looking for charity.”  
That might explain the quantity. Seems Dave might need to do some clever negotiation here. He casts about. Ah, the perfect solution.  
“That’s what the money’s for.”  
“What?”  
Dave sighs. Really, he should’ve realized Karkat had forgotten about it. It took him 10 minutes to figure out his answer.  
“The money is for food. And lodging.”  
Karkat sighs, and pulls out the money. “Fine,” he says, “Looks like enough for a few days. Maybe a week if you stretch it.”  
Karkat puts away the money, grumbling about how little there is, and how happy he is about the coming war.  
Wait. War? Since when is there a war, and why is Karkat happy about it?

Rose, meanwhile, just woke up. 

Rose isn’t sure whether what she dreamt was real or a fiction, until Kanaya shows up. For all of her cleverness at hiding her expression, she is clearly distressed, as one might be given the circumstances.  
Well then.  
“I must confess,” begins Rose, and Kanaya tenses. Rose continues as if not noticing, “that I feel distinctly unwell today. I may remain in my room for the day.”  
“Of course,” says Kanaya, “shall I leave?”  
Waiting only a moment for a response, Kanaya leaves. Or tries to, anyway. Before she can get through the door, Rose says “By the way, I feel I should apologize. I was not in my right mind at that moment.”  
Kanaya pauses. “Does that mean I shouldn’t come to this room if I hear screaming?”  
“Yes,” says Rose after a moment.  
“Honestly, you’re happy to take some time off from dealing with diplomacy. Not only will you now have time to let the mind-honey slowly release its hold on you, you can also just relax, which is a remarkably rare commodity in Derse, despite the nearly empty castle. Dirk and Roxy are much less noticed, as they aren’t in direct running for the throne.  
“You lie down on the bed, and wait for your mind to calm down.”

Informant, former spy, and probably the least known person in the entire Dersite castle, Nepeta Leijon walks down a deserted hallway.  
She is holding a good sum of money, and smiling to herself. Dirk not only thanked her for the information, but also gave her a little job to do; one that goes well with her expertise in spying and subterfuge.

John, Prince of Prospit, is feeling that woolen, stifling sensation he gets when he hasn’t gone flying in too long. He doesn’t like it. Even worse, he’ll have to wait at least another week before the diplomats leave and he can get his plane back out again…  
On a happier note, John remembers that an old friend is in the city. Sure, just being asked about Dave being outside the castle makes him jumpy, as if he did something horrible, but hey, it could be worse. Besides, just thinking about Dave talking to Karkat is kind of amusing.  
John’s attention returns to his present location; his room. It’s an excellent room by any standards. Well, any standards except for graffiti. For some reason, this room has ineradicable writing and drawings on the walls. People have tried to remove them several times, but never successfully. There are even rumors that a particularly irritated former royal child took out and replaced the wall, only to find that it reappeared soon after.  
Well, John won’t replace the wall, but he has no issues with Jade writing over them until they’re almost out of existence. Thinking of Jade, John has a thought. He doesn’t have time for anything that’ll take hours, like going flying, but he might have time for some cards. Of course, a two player game of cards is no game at all. For a proper game, he’ll need four. Fortunately, he knows just where to find them.

In no time at all, John sits at a table, Jade, Jane and Jake on the other sides, and a plate of cookies, courtesy of Jane, who said she was planning on sharing them anyway.  
Well, there are enough players, leaving one question. Jake asks it first.  
“So, then,” he says, “What are we playing?”

Kanaya is walking down the hallway with Rose in it when she hears the screaming. She wouldn’t go to Rose’s room, she certainly isn’t required to, except that Rose isn’t the one screaming.  
Kanaya bursts through the door, fearing what she will see.  
What she sees is Rose, sitting on her bed, one arm chained to a bedpost, holding onto a bloodied body in prosptian apparel.  
“Well if you won’t tell me,” says Rose, quietly. With a single jab of the, apparently sharpened, needle in her hand, she puts whoever it is out of their misery.  
Kanaya stares, mouth slightly open.  
Rose notices her, finally.  
“Assassin,” Rose says, gesturing at the body. “You can check if you want, his knife is over there.”  
A glance shows a flash of silver in the corner.  
“Oh,” says Rose, “and could you unchain me? I think that regardless of my present condition, this will raise questions that I am not suited to answer at the moment.”  
Kanaya knows that unchaining Rose could be the last thing she does. Then again, not unchaining her will indeed raise questions. Of course, she could say that the assassin did it to make the kill easier, but then… Not really any choice, then. She takes the key off of the desk where it sits in plain sight.  
Rose rubs at her wrist where the cuff was. She shows no sign of wanting to kill anyone, but Kanaya maintains her distance.  
Rose looks down at the body, then at Kanaya, then back at the body. She sighs. “So,” she says, and looks at Kanaya, “What are we going to do?”  
Kanaya says nothing, but looks almost despairingly at the dead body. This has been an eventful few days for her, and not in a good way.  
Rose feels similarly. This visit has been entirely counterproductive. First whatever happened last night, terrifying someone out of their wits who probably didn’t deserve it, and now a prospitian assassin (presumably prospitian anyway), tried to kill her. This is how wars start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone seems to be expecting war. Well, the Prospitian royalty actually seem pretty well set for enjoying themselves. Seems they don't know what's building.


	3. Many Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nepeta takes a look at some war machines, Rose and Kanaya talk to the king, Dave gets his face shoved into the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, apparently this one is comparatively a good deal bigger than the last two. A bit less than a third bigger, to be precise.

Time: 1:22 A.M. 24th of June 1025 ST

Place:  Somewhere beneath the Dersite Castle

 

Nepeta knew what she was in for when she accepted Dirk’s assignment, but she didn’t realize one fatal thing.  These robots seem to be alive.  At least, one of them is moving.

No, wait.  Nepeta hears a voice.  Alive or not, these things surely can’t talk.

Nobody is around, except whoever’s talking.  Seems whoever planned this thought this place was secure just by its location.

Well, not her fault if this is easy.

Still.  She wouldn’t be her if she wasn’t curious.  That’s actually why she was fired from her former job.  Thankfully, Dirk appreciates the way she explores a bit further than he requires.

Nepeta gets down from where she entered, up by the ceiling.  Everything smells overpoweringly of coal, and smoke.

The voice she heard is coming from the moving machine, grumbling about something.  Nepeta steps closer.

“-machinery of course, but granted the devilishly difficult controls, I must wonder about the designer.  Oh, dear,” something clanks inside.  “If I could actually talk to the designer, though…” there is a sound of someone reaching around on the floor for something.  Whoever is inside sighs.  “Well then.  That is impossible, so _I_ will understand this, on my honor and noble name.”

Nepeta raises her eyebrows.  Another noble mechanic?  Seems a common profession among the nobility.  Well, it’s like she was thinking just a bit ago.  Dirk is always happy to learn something useful.  Maybe this nobleman can help.

“If you want to talk to the designer,” says Nepeta, “I can help.”

There is silence inside.  “Yes?”  says the man.

 

Dirk has his face in his hand.

“Why?”

“He wanted to meet you,” says Nepeta.

“Good for him.”

The mechanic, who you’ve learned is named Equius is standing there nervously.

Dirk looks over and sighs.

“What can I do for you?” he asks.

Equius drops to a knee.

“Up,” says Dirk, gesturing.

Equius stands, awkwardly.  “Well...” begins Equius, “I was wondering about a few of the controls.  I have not received even the barest hint as to what they do.”

“You didn’t see the blueprints?” asks Dirk.

“Yes, but the mechanism is complex.”

Well, Nepeta at least is sure that a mechanic on their side is better than a few broken machines.  Sure, Dirk’s job for her was to destroy, but this seems better.

 

Roughly a day in the future.

 

“Do you at least believe I meant you no harm?”

“I, could, I suppose.”

“Well, obviously at that point in time I did, in a sense, but that wasn’t actually _me_.”

“That was what I meant, yes.”

Rose hasn’t had any of the mindhoney in the past day, give or take a few hours.  She can’t tell what Kanaya is going to do.  Hell, she can’t tell what _she’s_ going to do.

An attendant walks into the small antechamber.  No, not an attendant.  She’s too well dressed for such a low position as that, and a blind attendant is no attendant at all.  She must be here for another reason.

“Their majesties, the king and queen of Prospit want me to tell you that, in their words, “A matter of such political import as this one should not be subject to the court of- You know what?  Who cares?  The point is that you aren’t going into any kind of court.  The king and queen want to talk to you alone.  I will of course be there as arbiter.”

Whoever this person is, she clearly hasn’t learned about indoor and outdoor voices.

Rose and Kanaya give each other _looks_ , and, although neither realizes it, they do it for completely different reasons.  Kanaya does it because she knows exactly what all of this means.  Rose, meanwhile, in her tired state of mind, is wondering as to the answer Kanaya just came across.  Kanaya assumes Rose knows, and Rose assumes Kanaya doesn’t.

Rose and Kanaya follow the blind arbiter, through hallways, to the sound of what must be the tour for new arrivals.

“If you look up, you will see a painting of Prospitian history.  They say it’s good.  Is it?”

Kanaya doesn’t answer, presumably having heard all of this before.  Rose looks up, and says “I would say that I have seen better.”

“I haven’t,” says the arbiter, and laughs.

Rose laughs too, though mind honey and rest would normally fight it.

“You are the _first_ person to laugh at that in years,” says the woman.

They arrive at door like all the others.  This castle seems, like the Dersite castle, to be made mostly of hallways.  They walk in.

The King and Queen sit in a pair of chairs at the head and foot of a moderately sized table.  Also at the table is a man, presumably a nobleman, with long, black, and above all oily hair, tied back in a ponytail, sitting there, looking ready to kill something.  His arms are crossed, and he’s staring straight ahead, as the king, a large man with a friendly appearance, says something about waiting, in an apologetic tone.

He looks up as you enter.  “Oh!” he says.

Now what could this be about?

 

Karkat’s grumbling again.  By now, Dave gets that he’s just does that whenever he’s in a bad mood.  Well, it’s not a favorite, but eh, could be worse.

Contrary to what he was kind of expecting, he feels that he _can’t_ stay in the house.  There is exactly one reason why…  Sitting in one place all day is really boring.  Anyway, he’s really not doing anything important at the moment.

According to Karkat, Dave is really only useful for one thing; He can get rid of the guys who keep coming around looking for one ‘Karkat Vantas’.  He’s told them that they won’t find him here, which is technically true, so long as they don’t push past him.

After the first time of them coming around, and after making the required jokes about ‘pushing their adVantas,’ Dave gets into the routine.  According to Karkat, they know he’s here, but they aren’t allowed to come in without permission.  When Dave asks about why they want him, Karkat starts yelling and won’t stop for a full hour.

 

“But then,” says Equius, “if one were to simultaneously set all of them, it break the entire contraption.”

“No,” says Dirk, “that’s why I included this, which offloads the stress onto _this_ ,” he gestures to part of the diagram, “and warns the crew to not do that.”

“Some would still break,” says Equius.

“They might, but a kill switch is useful.”

Roxy is bored, and when she’s bored, it can mean only one thing.

“…and _then_ ,” she says, “he said _he_ wasn’t interested, because he knew it would taste horrible, but he thought _we_ might like it.”

Nepeta laughs.  As ways to pass time go, sharing ridiculous stories about Dirk is one of the better ones, especially since Nepeta hasn’t heard them all a thousand times before.

Roxy decides to tell about the time Rose decided that Dirk was insane, a few years ago, and set out to save him.  It was odd.

 

Hours later, though not too many.

 

John, despite the secrecy of the matter, has heard about the attempted assassination.  He has connected the name he’s heard associated with it, ‘Rose’, to a somewhat blurry picture of a girl he met at the banquet a few days ago.  Being who he is, he decided that he should talk to the victim of this attempted crime.

That’s why he’s here, having just knocked on the door, and realizing that this might not be his best idea.  How do you even offer your condolences about an attempted murder?  ‘Hi, sorry to hear someone tried to kill you.”

 

The door opens, to the sight of, sure enough, the person he met a day or so ago.  Despite having no idea what to say, John says “Oh, hey.  So, I heard someone tried to kill you, huh?”

“Yes,” says Rose.

“Oh, okay, well sorry about that,” responds John, then he brightens, and says, “Oh! Hey Kanaya.”

Kanaya, who is sitting at a desk, nervously twitching a foot, looks up.

John walks into the room.

“Oh-h man, Kanaya, you okay?” says John, looking almost ready to laugh.

“Of course I am,” says Kanaya, looking ready to do anything _but_ laugh “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you look really jumpy, and not like you could sit still for an hour, staring at a wall.”

Kanaya pauses.  “It has been a stressful few days,” she says.

“Oh, well fair enough, I’m sure you’ll feel better soon,” says John.

Rose cuts back in, “to what do we owe the, _unprecedented_ pleasure of the crown prince visiting?”

“Oh, that.  I wanted to apologize about the assassination thing, and I already did that, so I, guess I’m just gonna hang out here for a bit?”

 

Kanaya tries to regain her composure, which even John noticed the lack of.  After breathing deeply, for a bit, she slowly stops moving.  She almost seems a statue.  Her mind wanders back an hour or two.

 

“ _You are in many ways much more aware at the moment than Rose is, to the point where you know who you should be worried about.  The king and queen mostly want to keep the peace, and you doubt any purposeful malice in Rose.  This nobleman, Gamzee, with his atrocious hair, meanwhile, is shouting about an assassination.  He says it’s an assassination, anyway, but it almost sounds like an abduction of whoever he’s talking about._

_“He yells something about ‘swearing to protect’, someone.  He doesn’t really look capable of protecting much of anything, based on his physique, but your monarchs seem almost scared of him.  He reminds you of a few anecdotes about one of the old counts, the really scrawny one who only avoided being labeled a war criminal for ‘excessive ripping of enemy bodies’ because he was noble.  In this state, you can imagine Gamzee being the same kind of person._

_“Does he know that it was a Prospitian assassin that attacked Rose (at least, it seems it was, Rose seemed to doubt it) because if he has, who knows what might happen, even inside the castle._

_“You wish you hadn’t thought that.  You have this terrible feeling Gamzee is a powderkeg that could go off at any second._

_“The King begins speaking in that calm voice he reserves for foreign guests…”_

“What?” Kanaya asks.

“I said I wanted to apologize.  Again” says Rose.

“For what?”

Rose returns a meaningful look.

“Oh.  It’s alright.”

John interjects with a look of his own; a questioning one.

Rose waves him off.

John shrugs.

 

Deep in the heart of the Prospitian castle, one of the few inhabited places that are relatively unlit, a figure sits.

His hands are crossed in front of him.  His face is a mask of barely controlled rage and paint.  He doesn’t look like a fighter, or he wouldn’t normally. Today, though, a revelation has sent him careening off on the path of his father.  It has come to his attention that of the two assassinations today, a Prospitian servant in the castle apparently committed one of them.  Perhaps the other was as well, then.  He grabs something from the floor next to his chair.  Most days, he uses these to entertain his guests, fellow members of the aristocracy, but today he has a more violent use to put them to.

Tavros’ body hasn’t shown up yet, so there’s still a chance that he’s alive.  For the sake of all involved, that hope had best become a reality, or the man in the chair might be a bit unpredictable.

Gamzee walks out the door, like something from a nightmare.  Now which unlucky servant will he see first?

 

Meanwhile, in Derse…

Dirk has long since finished talking to Equius about machinery.  He _is_ talking to Equius, though.  Rather, Equius is talking to him.

“To be perfectly frank, it seems an odd turn of events for a designer of such mechanisms to object to their use.”

“It’s not that they’re using them,” says Dirk, “it’s that this sounds like an invasion force.”

“And yet you made them easily destructible if necessary,” says Equius.

“Not destructible,” says Dirk, “easily disabled, which is different.”

“I see.”

There is a knock at the door.  More of a pounding, really.

Dirk goes to the door.  There is a guard outside, probably sent to find a missing engineer.

He’s obviously new, because he’s surprised to find a prince in this room.

“Oh!  Sorry to intrude, sir, but we are searching for an escaped prisoner currently believed to be hiding in the castle.  Tell me sir, does _this_ man look familiar to you?”  He holds up a pretty good picture of Equius.

Thankfully for Dirk, he has the ability to look almost entirely blank.  This he does towards the picture.  “I’ve never seen him,” he says.

“Of course, sir,” says the guard, “I’ll continue looking elsewhere.”

“Yeah.  Do that,” says Dirk.

The guard walks away, still holding the wanted poster.

Equius looks shifty as Dirk looks back at him.

“Ye-es,” he says, “I was going to mention; the only reason I am here, and not working, currently, is that the only reason I _was_ there was that I was forced to.”

Dirk shrugs, “You should ask Nepeta,” he says, “she’s good at staying hidden.  Anyway, unless I’m mistaken, you’ll be able to make it to Nepeta before they search again.  If they knew you were here and wanted you caught, they’d have you by now.”

 

Elsewhere in the Dersite castle…

 

No screams echo into the throne room.  That is an important feature of the room; that no screams reach it.  So if, by chance, some poor soul _had_ to tell the monarchs that a chief engineer, with important plans in his head, has escaped his post, an important gala could continue, with no ill effects.

 

Still elsewhere in the same castle…

A man sits at his sworn position, weapon in hand.  He isn’t sure that anything is coming, but he _is_ ready for it.  That’s his job.  It was the job of his father, too.  It still is, in fact.  Guarding such a high profile target, especially with the rumors of assassination flying around, is a nerve-wracking job, but a force just as strong as the one telling him to run is telling him to go through the door he’s been guarding all day, and _talk_ for a bit.  Stronger than either and both of those forces, though, is the one that tells him what happens if he does either of those.  _Royal_ guard that he is he will be stripped of both parts of that designation if he even slips up slightly.

Eridan, aristocrat and guard, is simultaneously bored out of his skull, and terrified.

 

Later, still in the same castle…

Nepeta, in some part of her mind, _knows_ that not everyone is as loud as the servants she can hear coming a mile away, and she knows that if she’s petting one of the cats she sets out food for, she’s less alert.  However, what she _didn’t_ expect was that one of the people quieter than the servants is Equius.  His size alone should forbid it.  All the same, Nepeta’s first notice that he is there is that the door opens.  On the stone floors around here, even making it to the hallway without being heard is an achievement.  Of course, even with that advantage, he doesn’t spot Nepeta in the ceiling, preferring instead to look around on the ground level.  When his search fails, he tries a different approach.

He clears his throat.  Then, “Hello?”  Nepeta doesn’t respond.

“Ah,” he says, “I suppose you are elsewhere.  However; if you are not, I would request that you show yourself, as I was asked by the prince to come to this room and find you…  I shall wait.”

Equius takes a seat by the door, facing into the room, full of its shelves and paper.  Nepeta waits.  Equius doesn’t move.  Nepeta drops down silently, hidden from view.

“Yes?” she asks, turning the corner into view.

“Ah,” says Equius, “there you are.”

 

Far away from the Dersite castle, Dave is bored.

 

Dave has been doing practically nothing for days.  Karkat keeps vanishing in the evening, just as the sun is going down.  Dave, as an experiment, stayed up, and found that he only returned an hour or so later.  As the boredom finally overwhelms him, Dave decides to find out, once and for all, what is going on.

Karkat doesn’t make any attempt to conceal his leaving, so Dave is easily able to leave shortly after.

Dave never was an expert at following people, but Karkat never looks back.  Seems that wherever he’s going, he doesn’t care if he’s followed.  At least, that’s the argument Dave plans to use if Karkat catches him.

A few turns, and the bustling nighttime activity of Prospit fades away and is replaced by quiet.  It is in this quiet that Karkat meets, someone.

Dave feels kind of like Rose, trying to figure as much out about someone as possible, from limited clues.  The voice gives the person away as a woman, as she says “Oh hey Karkat!”  The voice is reminiscent of Karkat in its volume and quality, but at the same time, it’s different from anything Dave’s heard out of him.

“Hi,” says Karkat, and not in his usual angry squawk.  It’s like he’s talking to someone he doesn’t actively dislike.

  1.   Karkat not angry, moonlit night, going for a walk… Is he on a date?



Karkat says something, and the woman laughs, in the same way she talks, loudly, and slightly crazily.

“It’s not funny,” says Karkat.

Shaking off the laughter, the woman says, “It kind of is.  I mean, they’re looking for a lost heir, and all they’ll get is _you_.”

 _Now_ Karkat laughs.  “Right, yeah.”

This is only _kind_ of like what Rose does, Dave decides.  This is a lot more to work with than Rose ever had.  It occurs to Dave that this might be a joke.  Maybe Karkat is pranking him.  It doesn’t sound like it, though.  Also, if Karkat is a lost heir, or whatever, is that how John knows him?

Both are laughing again.

 

Terezi doesn’t usually hear things that aren’t there.  This time should be no different.

Karkat walks on her right, and there is a quiet, but present tapping of feet behind.  So.  She has to tell Karkat, or he’ll get all grumpy when she deals with it, which, while adorable, means he won’t talk to her for a day or two, which can be a bit annoying.

“Wanna know a secret?” Terezi asks.

Karkat snorts.  “Everything you say is a secret out here. There’s nobody around.”

Terezi laughs.  “Fine, but I’m going to whisper anyway.”

“Hah!” says Karkat, “Is that the secret? That you can whisper?”

“No,” says Terezi, “This is.”

She leans in to his ear, and Karkat looks oddly terrified.  She says, “We’re being followed.  We have been for a while.  You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? Hm?”

Karkat relaxes, then sighs.  “I thought it was going to be something like that,” he says.

 

Dave isn’t, as a rule, very curious, but he wonders what she said.  The road splits in a T ahead, and they draw to a halt at the splitting point.

“I guess I’ll see you later?” says Karkat.

The woman nods.

They part ways.

That was… Interesting, decides Dave.  He could just head home now, but then again, he could follow Karkat, who doesn’t seem to be heading home yet.  Maybe something _else_ interesting will happen.  Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.

Karkat follows the same pace and habit as before, walking slowly, and never looking back.  It makes it exceedingly easy to follow him.

He follows a path through the same part of the city he’s been in all night; the quiet part.  Dave follows, waiting for whatever comes next.

What comes next is Dave having his face shoved into the ground.

“We-ell!” says a very familiar voice, “Hello!  Hey, Karkat, think he’s a mugger,” she says this like some kind of protocol she’s following, and is required to say, “(Actually, not enough leather.  He smells like _you_ a bit, actually.  Like your house, anyway.)”

“Really, Terezi?” asks Karkat, in a similar voice “Not a mugger?! What are the odd-…  Oh great.  It’s you.”

“Dave,” says Dave, opening his hand in Terezi’s direction, although opening it is all he can do, since his arms are effectively immobilized.

“What is he doing with his hand?” asks Terezi.

“At the moment?” says Karkat, “He’s trying to offer you a handshake.”

“You know him, I guess,” says Terezi, “Should I let him up?  I could break some bones, if you want.”

Karkat sighs, in what, to a connoisseur of such things, clearly says that he is tempted to take the second option.  It is a masterful sigh, with the graveled aggravation that needs a true sighing genius, and it is longer than a sentence trying to say the same thing.  It is a lungful of air with time on its hands, and a chip on its shoulder.  Alas, though, nobody around besides Karkat can truly appreciate it for the beauty it holds.

“Let him up,” says Karkat.

Terezi lets go, and Dave gets up.

“I guess that happens to you two a lot,” says Dave.

“No-o, we just came up with that on the spot,” says Karkat, and rolls his eyes.  “But while we’re on the subject of ‘that happening,’ I should tell you that, on grounds of ‘that happening’, I’m evicting you.”

“Great.”

Terezi cocks her head to one side.  “He was living with you?” she asks.  Dave turns around.  There’s an odd look on Terezi’s face.  It looks like she just hit the jackpot, and knows exactly what to do with the money.  “One from the prince?”

“Yeah,” says Karkat.

“And let me guess,” says Terezi, “his name is Dave.”

“Yeah,” cuts in Dave, “and I’m standing right here, so-“

“Shut up you don’t get to talk,” says Karkat.  “Anyway, Terezi-“

“Karkat!  That is no way to talk to the crown prince of Derse!”

Karkat gives Dave another look, then he says, “Well, whatever.  In case you’ve forgotten, the reason we _thought_ he was here was that… Well.  You know.”

Terezi laughs.  “What, do you care if he knows?  Honestly, you’d probably yell it at him in the middle of a crowded street if he insulted you properly,” she looks in Dave’s general direction, “He’s a prince of both Prospit and Derse.”

The whole street is silent.  Though that only consists of three people, given who they are, it’s still quite a feat.

Karkat sighs, “Well, now that you know that, I guess I _can’t_ evict you, right?”

Dave could barely care less, but being evicted doesn’t sound fun either.

“Sure,” he says.

Karkat sighs again.  “ _Fine_ ,” he says.

“Well,” says Terezi, “There’s no point in staying out here.”

 

“ _It’s been a long day, and it’s a long walk home.  They jump you halfway there, yelling at you, calling you ‘Lord Karkat, and telling you that if you just come with them, they can make your life_ so _much better.  You try to struggle and fight them off, but there’re too many, and they’re too intent on taking you where they want to go._

_“Luckily for you, their intentness bites them, when your yells, muffled though they are by one of their hands, bring help._

_“One of them goes down with a whack to the neck.  A few get cracked on the shins.  You see a wooden stick flash through the air, striking them apparently at random.  They drop you and scatter._

_“You sit up, and get a first glance at your savior.  At the moment, she’s whispering something in the ear of the one she hit in the neck.  You call it whispering, but really, it’s more like really quiet yelling._

_“‘…you try that again, you know exactly what will happen.  Now I suggest you run, because the others all have.’_

_“She looks over at you, eyes covered by red glasses, holding the solid wood cane that she just finished beating your attackers with.  She laughs._

_“‘I’ve always wanted to do that.’”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you didn't notice, Terezi's staff is solid wood, now, but it still has the dragon head, so, as you've seen, she can still wallop people with it. And yes, she shows up twice in this chapter, in separate places. And I should probably add a 'x hours later' thing, to make it clearer how far apart this stuff happens.


	4. Tired, Hungover, and Angry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody's feeling very good today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies that the formatting's a bit off. I had to get it here by odd means.

Time: 2:17 AM, 25th of June 1025 ST  
Place: Somewhere beneath the Dersite Castle

Nepeta makes for an excellent guide. She knows practically every inch of this castle, probably better than the builders, who seemed to just build this from a process, rather than blueprints, and didn’t stop. At least, that’s what Roxy would guess. Considering the sheer size, and unusedness of most of the castle, whoever planned it had no uses in mind for massive portions of it.  
Eventually, they find themselves back above the giant room where all the machines are stored.  
Unlike before, it isn’t deserted. Certainly, there seem to be no workers there to build or weld, but there are guards. So many guards. One at every exit, patrols through the rows, columns, and some that seem to be wondering aimlessly. It is, in short, practically impossible to not be spotted.  
Then again…  
Who even knows where these machines will go? Maybe they’re just to defend Derse. Maybe this was a dumb move. Well, given Derse’s approach to foreign affairs, probably not, but even so...  
Dirk takes a breath.  
“Does anyone know what these are going to be used for? Besides fighting, I mean.”  
Everyone stops, and gives Dirk a look. He shrugs. “I didn’t think so. All we know is that they are here. Maybe they aren’t there to attack.”  
The statement sinks in. “I see,” says Equius, “We could be sabotaging our defense.”  
Hitherto silent, Roxy says, “Wasn’t this your idea?”  
“Yes,”  
“So we basically just walked down here for nothing?”  
“Yes.”  
“Okay.”  
“Anyway, so we don’t have to wait for the answer to slap us in the face, I’m going to send Nepeta to get answers,” Dirk says  
“Yup. I can do that,” says Nepeta. She doesn’t move, though.  
“Let me guess. You’re waiting for me to pay you,” says Dirk. Nepeta nods. “I don’t have any money on me.”  
Nepeta shrugs. “Have it ready,” she says, and walks back up the tunnel they came down.  
The walk back up to familiar parts of the castle takes a while, and nobody, not even Dirk really wants to stay awake. The sun will rise in a few hours, and none of them have gotten any proper sleep in too long. Dirk’s room is warm and cozy, and soon all four of them are asleep on the floor.

Dave blearily opens his eyes, his face on Karkat’s table. He groans. Karkat is leaning back in his chair, mouth open, and snoring like a bear. Terezi is sitting silently in the other chair, arms crossed, unmoving. Dave tries to sit up, and Terezi turns to face him (Well, she faces near him.)   
“Oh my god,” says Dave, hand on face, “do you even sleep?”  
A corner of Terezi’s mouth quirks up. She shakes her head.  
“Do you have any idea what happened last night?” asks Dave, “everything’s a blur of Karkat making sarcastic remarks, and you cackling.”  
“Actually that pretty accurate,” says Terezi.  
Dave stretches out his back. “What was it actually-*Kr-rk*-about? We were going somewhere with that.”  
“We were talking about Karkat’s lineage. Also the two of you got drunk on a frankly pitiful amount of alcohol.”  
“Is that what that was?” asks Dave.  
“Yeah. I mean, I’m not supposed to use it. Well, technically I’m allowed to use it, but only to loosen people’s tongues to help resolve a dispute. Anyway. The point is, yes, it’s alcoholic.”  
Karkat’s snoring, so blissfully absent for a few seconds, flares back.  
Terezi sighs, and pulls out her cane. A sturdy whack with the pointy end of the handle brings Karkat back to consciousness. Sort of.  
“kHuh?! Rgbu ng, h-h, AAGH!” Karkat tries to pick himself up off the floor. It takes a bit, but he gets back into his chair. He turns to Terezi.  
“Why.”  
Terezi smiles, faintly. Karkat’s lips tighten, and his eyes narrow, which in theory should make someone look angry, but Karkat just looks vaguely annoyed.  
Terezi’s smile widens, and Karkat’s expression intensifies.  
Dave groans again, snapping them out of their infinite cycle. “Weren’t we actually doing something before we woke up?”  
“Sleeping,” says Karkat.  
“Before that.”  
“Collapsing on the table? You did that.”  
“We were writing something.”  
Karkat sighs. “Yes we were,” he says.  
“What was a it?” asks Dave, “It was a plan or-“  
“It was a list of ways to embarrass yourself,” says Karkat, “You were acting them out as we went.”  
Terezi puts a paper on the table. It’s covered in scrawl, and there’s a section entirely covered in scribbles, or at least mostly scribbles.  
“This is what you wrote last night,” says Terezi, “It is, if my drunk-reading skills are right, you two plotting ways to use Karkat’s ancestry to your advantage. My personal favorite is the one where you use it to get free food.”  
“So it was a plan,” says Dave.  
Karkat picks up the paper and squints at it. “Front of the- line?”  
Terezi nods. “Lines are so boring, aren’t they?”  
“What is, ‘Cross-knighting’?”  
“You said since you were both princes, you could knight each other.”  
“That’s stupid.”  
Dave and Terezi shrug in unison.  
“These are terrible ideas,” says Karkat, “and I’m tired, and my mouth tastes like socks. I have work to do. Goodbye.”  
As Karkat leaves, Terezi looks over at Dave. “So. What are you planning to do all day?”  
Dave shrugs. “Dunno. Probably sit inside, being bored.”  
Terezi laughs. “I have a better idea. Actually, I have two better ideas. I just need Karkat to stop working.”  
“Heh. I’m sure that’s a challenge,” says Dave.  
“No,” says Terezi, “not unless I tell him the plan.”  
Dave raises his eyebrows over his glasses. (Which he is still wearing. Those are still a thing he wears.)

_“Dave laughs. ‘Terezi,’ he says, ‘I, know you said, this stuff was not alcohol, but I’m…’ his face hits the table. He laughs, and then stops talking. Shortly, he’s snoring._   
_“’Y’know,’ says Karkat, ‘B-… R-… D? Yeah, Dave,’ he snorts, ‘Bave. Anyway. I think he’s right. This stuff… Alcohol. Yeah. Right?”_   
_“Terezi grins, ‘maybe. You’ll see in the morning, I guess.’_   
_“’Splains why you didn’t have any,’ says Karkat, ‘guess y’didn’t wanna be. Drunk. Hah! Or you’re planning something. Are you gonna kill us?’_   
_“Terezi shrugs. ‘I guess you’ll find out.’_

“No! NO! HELL NO!” Karkat, Dave, and Terezi, stand outside of the palace. Karkat is struggling to escape Terezi’s iron grip.  
The two guards at the gate look on with confused expressions.  
“Sorry about him,” says Dave, “He sort of needs to do something in the castle, but he doesn’t want to.” Dave shrugs, “Probably see this all the time.”  
One guard shrugs, as if to say, ‘something like that.’ The other guard shakes his head, looking confused, and a bit disturbed.  
Terezi sighs, and half guides, half is pulled by, Karkat, to an alley. Dave follows them. When he gets there, Karkat is saying “-ause this exactly what those nutjobs were trying to do!”  
“No,” says Terezi, still calm, “they were trying to make you accept it. I’m trying to show you what needs to happen and why, and then we’ll talk about you accepting it.”  
“I’m not going to,” says Karkat, “I wasn’t cut out for being royalty.”  
“Maybe,” says Terezi, “but what were you cut out for, then?”  
“What? I don’t know,” says Karkat, “I’m pretty sure what I’m ‘cut out for’ is to let an actually useful piece of cloth do something. I’m just some piece that got left on the floor of a tailor’s shop, and is now completely useless!”  
“Well,” says Dave, “No point getting shirty about it.”  
“Hghmmm,” roughly goes the sound that Karkat makes.  
“And just because that happened before doesn’t mean the same thing is going to happen. This could be your second pants.”  
“That is literally the worst joke I’ve ever heard.”   
“Well, you’ve got the freedom to say that, and far be it from me to jacket.”  
“FINE! I’ll go, take a look, or whatever, as long as this idiot,” Karkat points at Dave, “doesn’t make any more jokes.”  
Karkat gives Dave a murderous look, “Seriously, you sound like John.”  
Dave shrugs. “Do I? Maybe I am him. Maybe you’ve been played for a fool.”  
“HAH!” barks Karkat, “Now that’s funny. John, faking being someone else? Successfully? No way.”  
“Well then,” says Terezi, “right this way, your highness.”  
“Stop it,” says Karkat in a warning tone of voice.

Shortly.

The servant tries to pull away, but is unable to. Gamzee, for all his thin appearance, apparently has muscles of steel.  
“WHERE IS HE?!”  
The voice is nearly impossible to stay silent in the face of. The servant sputters out “I don’t know! Who?”  
Voices come from nearby. Gamzee spins around, flinging the servant away. He sees a group ahead of him, potentially a group containing someone worth interrogating.  
The servant, around the 20th to experience this treatment, bolts, to, like some of the others, tell the guards, who are lurking nearby, trying not to be spotted, for, brave though they may be, they are not this brave.

Karkat continues with Terezi, as she says that what the guards were warning about was probably only a wet floor or something, when he spots a figure charging them. It knocks Terezi aside immediately, and hauls Dave into the air. As Dave hangs, the figure shouts, “WHERE!?”  
“Wha-“ begins Dave, before the figure tosses him away. He slides across the floor, into a wall.  
The figure turns on Karkat, and, like with Dave, picks him up.  
“WHE-“ starts the same voice.  
“SHUT UP!!!!” screams Karkat.  
Dead silence. Seems this was unexpected.  
“Now put, me, down!” says Karkat.  
When he’s on the ground, Karkat continues, “Who are you looking for?”  
The figure sighs. “Tavros,” he says sullenly.  
“And who are you.”  
“Gamzee.”  
“Okay, well, you do realize that if you’re trying to interrogate someone, picking them up and screaming at them to tell you where someone is, with no context, is completely useless.”  
“He was killed, by a servant,” says Gamzee, “and that servant knows who they are.”  
“We don’t know if he was killed or kidnapped,” says Terezi, “and anyway, who says it was a servant?”  
Gamzee turns to face her with force. “THE OTHER ONE WAS!”  
“Gamzee!” snaps Karkat.  
It seems that Gamzee is returning to his anger, because he turns back to Karkat with thunder in his eyes.  
“IT WAS!” he shouts.  
“AND IT DIDN’T OCCUR TO YOU THAT YOU’RE SCARING THEM AWAY?!”  
Another jolt to Gamzee’s anger.  
“What do you mean,” he says in a growl.  
“I mean,” says Karkat, “that if it was a servant, they’ve probably heard about this, and run away to hide.”  
“…”  
“Exactly.”  
Karkat notices a few guards tentatively poking their heads around the corner. He waves them away.  
Terezi stands up, and walks over.  
“Hello again,” she says.  
Gamzee groans.  
“You know, your lack of faith in our detective service is quite shocking,” she says. “We will find lord Tavros.”  
“Y’d b-r,” grumbles Gamzee.  
“And anyway,” continues Terezi, “I need you to come with us.”  
Gamzee says nothing.  
“Well. I’ll need you to come with us, once Dave wakes up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering where Rose and Kanaya are, both of them have been asleep through most of this chapter. Also, Gamzee has been yelling at servants for about half a day straight by the time Karkat gets to him. Seriously, that takes iron will, or burning rage.
> 
> Now, you may be wondering where Terezi is going. You'll find out. (If I forget to tell you, let me know)


	5. When Everyone is Busy...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The king and queen of Prospit learn a lot, very quickly. Nepeta does some tracking. John makes a terrible joke. Karkat, Dave and Gamzee are stuck in a room together.

Time: 10:25 AM, 25th of June 1025 ST

Place: Prospitian Throne Room

 

The Prospitian King and Queen are surprised to see Terezi again so soon.

“Your majesties,” says Terezi, “good news.”

 “First, you probably heard about Lord Gamzee running around terrorizing the servants.” She looks back at the King and Queen.  “He’s not doing that anymore.  _This guy_ ,” she jerks a thumb in Karkat’s general direction, “stopped him.”

The monarchs give Karkat a look of gratitude.  He stays in his expression of vaguely annoyed stoicism.

“And also,” finishes Terezi, “I also got Prince Dave back, which I thought might be a good idea.”

The expression this time is more of surprise.  After all, hearing about two solved problems in one visit is certainly unusual.

The king decides to go for one more little problem solved.  “What is your name?” he asks Karkat.

Karkat sighs, as if he can see the future.  “Karkat Vantas,” he says.

The monarchs look at Karkat in shock.  Gamzee furrows his brow, then his eyes widen as he remembers the name.

Terezi shrugs.  “Yeah, that’s him.” She looks over at Gamzee.  “And you don’t get to repeat history.”  She looks back at the thrones.  “I brought Prince Dave in to help with the trouble with Derse.  Same for Karkat, but good luck convincing him to do anything.”

“What she said,” says Karkat through clenched teeth.  “I don’t want to, and you can’t make me.”

“What’s going on with Derse,” asks Dave, almost nervously.

“Oh, that,” says Terezi, “someone tried to kill Princess Rose.”

“Oh,” scoffs Dave, “I bet they _tried_.”

“They did,” says Terezi, “and your assumption that they failed is correct.  She is alive and well.”

Dave nods.

 

Rose is indeed alive, though whether she is ‘well’ could be disputed.  She is standing above the body of her would-be killer.  Her mind is once again calm and sharply rational.  Bad idea though she has found it to be, Rose knows that she needs to solve this.  When the last dose was on its last legs, she had her doubts that this was a Prospitian assassin.  Now she’s going to make sure.

Kanaya is outside of the door of this odd room.  The room in question is basically an autopsy room, and Rose takes full use of it.  Among other things, one of the upsides to the clarity afforded by mind honey is that things that would normally seem disgusting, like, for instance, a body that’s been cut open, are just objects to look at.  This might take a while.

 

Kanaya sits outside of the door.  She’s really not sure why she’s here.  Maybe it’s just that she has nothing better to do.  Of course, Rose isn’t going to be interested in any form of conversation, and Kanaya will need to avoid that room tonight, to avoid any kind of repeat incident.  That’s life, Kanaya guesses.

 

Nepeta is, once again, on the prowl.  She has, thus far, discovered evidence of an affair, some probably pretty bad familial strife, and an absolutely _awful_ smell coming from one of the laundry rooms.  Basic stuff, really.  What she _hasn’t_ found, is anything relating to the machines beneath the castle.  The usual suspects don’t yield results.

It takes a full hour of searching before something interesting happens.  Four men of varying statures, including the arch-agent of Derse, one of the highest ranking officials, are walking together.

 

Nepeta follows them.

“How long?” asks the arch-agent.

The tall one next to him shrugs, “About as long as last time you asked,” he says in a voice of chocolate, “maybe a couple days, maybe less if the messenger’s fast.  And we should have the hostage a few days after that.”

“Hm. ‘still can’t believe we got _those guys_ to do it,” says one of the group, the biggest by far.

“It’s just a matter of leverage,” says the tall one.  Nepeta suddenly understands.  Sure, she’s not sure who they’re talking about, but she knows who they are.  The tall one is the Draconian Dignitary, who’s in charge of ‘foreign relations,’ or at least that’s his job description.  Really, his main function is espionage.  Then there’s the Hegemonic Brute, the big one.  He’s the one who they say goes out at night to the homes of dissidents and deals with them.  The small one they call the Courtyard Droll.  He’s actually just an imperial jester, but when you’re always around the monarch, you pick things up, and so they put him with the others so he wouldn’t spill his secrets.  Together, they make up the body of men in charge of all the shadowy actions of Derse, the Midnight Crew.

Nepeta, in her moment of revelation, realizes they’ve kept walking and she can’t hear them.  After a hurried moment of catching up, she starts listening again.

“-and he says, ‘I thought it was a horse’,” squeaks the Droll.

The Brute laughs, and the Dignitary nods, slowly.

“AGH!” yells the arch-agent as if he’s put up with this for hours, “just shut up already!”

The dignitary shakes his head.  The Archagent reluctantly subsides.

The arch-agent sighs.  “How long now?”

“Couple of days, at most.”

Nepeta isn’t sure if all of their discussions are this circular, but she’s going to stick around and find out.

 

To Kanaya, the whole chain of events that put her here is a blur.  How did this happen?  She’s not complaining, exactly, but then again, the whole thing is a bit tense.

Jake lays down his hand, and there’s a collective groan.  This is the third time he’s gone out in the first round, just in this game.  Jane draws.  Reshuffling her hand a bit, she nods, and lays down her cards; only 12 points against.  John draws too, and sighs.  “So close,” he says, and shows his hand.  51 points against.  “I almost did a 52 pickup.”

About the last thing Kanaya remembers before she arrived at this game was John walking up.

_“He’s clearly a man with purpose, ‘Oh, Kanaya, hello again,’ he says.  You just nod in response.  ‘Y’know, you are just the kind of person I was looking for.  You don’t have anything to do, right?’_

_“You have to concede you really don’t.  You shake your head._

_“John grins, ‘perfect, I’ve been wanting to try this a thing, but it’ll work better with an extra person.’_

_“And then you were playing, and you have a vague recollection of John talking ceaselessly on the way about the rules.”_

Kanaya puts down her hand.  2 points against.

“By the way,” asks Jake, “weren’t you involved in the assassination, or somesuch?”

 

Terezi has been gone for a half hour, maybe, talking to the Queen and the King.  Karkat sits in a really quite comfortable chair, staring straight ahead.  Despite his calm exterior, his internal monologue is quite active.  It goes something like this.

_“How did we let Terezi convince us to do this?”_

_“No idea.”_

_“You didn’t see this coming?”_

_“What?  That Terezi would be talking to the King and Queen, about me?!  No!”_

_“Well whether you saw it coming or not, it’s happened.  What are we going to do about it?”_

_“They can’t force us to_ do _anything.”_

_“Like hell they can’t.”_

_“Yeah, but not_ this _.”_

_“Well, even if they can’t do that, they might not even want me to.  They might just exile me.”_

_“And off you go… Where?  Not Derse, certainly.”_

_“Definitely not Derse.”_

_“And everywhere’s going to be at war, anyway.”_

_“Probably, yeah.”_

_“So, accept?”_

_“…”_

_“…”_

Rose, were she here, would probably spot that Karkat is breathing fast, and looks nervous.  Practically nobody would notice that Gamzee is nervous.  He looks more like he’s just kind of angry, like people have been annoying him all day, which, in a way, they have.

Dave looks over at them, bored out of his mind.  What do you even do when you’re stuck with two people, indefinitely, with no way to entertain yourself?  He looks up at the ceiling and groans.  What are they talking about in there?  Didn’t Terezi say she was involved in solving disputes?  How does this even apply?

“So,” says Dave, “Gamzee.  Terezi said something about ‘repeating history’.  What was that.”

Gamzee looks over, still looking annoyed, but thankfully _not_ murderous.

He sighs, in the manner of one who’s already talked about this.  “She was talkin’ about my father.  Count Makara, was what they called ‘im.  ‘Course, then there was all that stuff with the war.”  Gamzee looks over.  “You heard any a’ that before?”

Dave shakes his head, so Gamzee continues.  “I’ve heard I look a lot like him,” he says, “which tells you something I guess.”  Tall, thin, wiry.  “There was a war.  He fought.  Killed a bunch ’a people.  They didn’t like how he did it, said the bodies should be clearly human, even after death.”  Gamzee shrugs, “So he killed the man who said it.”  Gamzee shrugs.  “So they knocked him down a peg, sent him off to somewhere.  Left me here so I could work for the man’s son, and so I couldn’t grow up learning the same thing.”

“How is that ‘history repeating?” asks Dave.

“What?  Oh.  Right.  Well, he killed another noble before, but nobody cared so much.  He got married to a taken Dersite noble lady.  Said he’d go to his grave ‘fore he’d repent.  My father made sure he did,” he finishes, a touch bitterly.

 

Sheer silence.  At that instant, Terezi comes striding into the room like she was waiting for Gamzee to finish, rubbing her eyes as if tired.   She composes her face into a mad grin.

“ _Well!_ ” she says, “I thought that wouldn’t take nearly _half_ the time.”  She shrugs.  “Still.  You can stand up soon, as soon as I tell you what’s going on so you won’t be so clearly _riveted_ to your chairs.”

When there’s no response, Terezi continues, “Of course maybe I should tell you about all of the discussion we had, first.  It took a while, but I’m willing.  What _really_ happened was that I was telling them that we needed Karkat to reappear, because of _course_ Derse would notice, and _they_ were saying that it was a terrible idea, because-“

“OH MY GOD SHUT UP AND TELL US!” Yells Karkat, throwing his hands in the air.

Terezi cackles, which fades into something resembling genuine laughter, of the giggling kind.  “ _Fine,”_ she says, “since you ask so _nicely_ , I will.

“Obviously Dave needs to come back and help.  That was the easy part.  They might have had a point about Karkat, meanwhile-“

“Hold up.  Why do you need me back?  ‘Cause it feels like you’re making that up.”

“Because,” says Terezi, “Derse is going to declare war, on Prospit, because we supposedly attacked the princess, and they’re looking for war.”

Dave nods. “Right.  So why do you need me back.”

Terezi sighs.  “ _Because_ ,” she begins, “even _if_ Rose decides to try to avoid war, Derse can still declare war and say she’s traumatized and scared to say otherwise.  If _you_ join in as well, though, we might manage something.”

“So, what.  I make a speech?  Bad idea.”

Terezi smiles.  “No.  Not a bad idea.  If you’re really that bad, we need you to do it like always, so they know it’s you.”

Dave sighs.  “Not sure that’s how it works.”

“Well _I am._   Anyway, I know more than you think.  I’ve heard about you.  Trust me, you’ll do fine.

“Anyway.  Karkat.”

“Oh no.  Don’t even _say_ you need me to ‘reclaim my lineage’ or whatever garbage it was.  I’m not doing it.  _I_ decided, on my own I might add, to not do that.  If I’m going to be ‘prestigious’, I’m doing it myself, not because of some _idiot_ _noble_ who couldn’t keep off the visiting diplomat!”

As Karkat continues his tirade for a bit, as Gamzee stares very intently at Karkat’s face, and Karkat, despite apparently not noticing, slowly peters out.  He finishes with, “I’m not,” and a vigorous shake of his head.

“Fine,” says Terezi with a smile and a shrug.  A casual watcher might think she enjoyed the reaction, but what kind of stupidity would that be?

“Fine?” asks Karkat, taken aback.

“Fine.  I wasn’t going to ask you to do any of that.  Well, except as a backup.  You’re the ‘in case of war’ option.  No, what you need to do is stay with Gamzee.  Help him find lord Tavros.  I’ll be helping too, actually, when I can.”

Karkat settles back down.  “Well,” he says, “okay.”

“In fact, I can help right now, so Dave, talk to the King and Queen.”

 


	6. Trips: Pointless and Well Pointed.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a limited time: Vriska!  
> For a much longer time, Karkat and Gamzee on wild mansion adventures! A Wolf!  
> And, of course, Dirk, Roxy and Nepeta making another pointless trip to the roboarmy, and things happening with Equius.

Chapter VI

 

An office. A voice he knows.  An annoying voice, but at the moment, a welcome one.  It’s welcome, because it’s telling Gamzee that they caught someone; someone involved with the kidnapping.  Gamzee listens to the woman talk about how there’s no way to get information out of this guy, and the welcome fades.

“Of coouurse, if the ‘higher ups’ would let me do lasting injury… “

“Then you could get him started,” says Terezi.

“Hm,” says Gamzee. “Hm…”

Her name is Vriska, chief of interrogations in Prospit.  She’s good at it, but she says she’s hampered by the constraints of the crown.  She grins, as if she likes the tone of his ‘hm’.

“Let me try,” says Gamzee.

Vriska seems to consider.  “Do it.”

“Gamzeee,” says Karkat warningly.

Gamzee turns to him with with a look that says exactly what’s in his mind.  ‘Let me do this,’ it says, ‘You’re here to stop me attacking servants.  I’m here to find someone.’

Karkat holds out against the look for a few seconds, then looks away and sighs.

Gamzee walks into the room.  The door closes behind him, and though he doesn’t see it, the others listen at the door.

 

The man is sitting at the table, tied to the chair.  He’s a round-faced little man, staring straight ahead, breathing measured and even.  It’s like he doesn’t even realize anything has happened.

Gamzee stands directly in front of him.  He doesn’t move.  His eyes seem unfocused.

Gamzee slides the table aside.  The man is now in the chair in front of him, unprotected.  ‘No lasting damage,’ Gamzee recalls.  ‘ _well,’_ he thinks, ‘ _this’ll heal._ ’ He hefts a club.  He tilts his head at the man, daring him to speak.  The man doesn’t move.

 _*Crack!*_ The club comes down on the man’s left shin.  For a second, nothing happens.  Gamzee prepares to do it again to the other shin, but the man’s face moves.  It scrunches up in pain.  Very, very slowly, but speeding up.

By the time his eyes are open again, he’s back at full speed.  He’s breathing fast.  He stares at Gamzee not in anger, but in terror.

“AAGH!  My lord, you’ve returned!?”

Gamzee says nothing for a second.  “Huh.  Yeah, ‘spose I have.” The voice is different.  It’s possessed of a sort of dark charisma, a happiness disguising murderous intent.  He cracks his neck.  “And what do I find but _you_.”

The terror remains.  “Yes sir.  I don’t know how I got here.  I am,” he laughs nervously, “Very glad to see you again, though.  Sir.”

“Hm,” says Gamzee, then, “Do I look like I care?   I got a question for you.”

“Yes sir.  Anything sir.”

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“Yes sir.  I got caught sir,”Gamzee thanks whatever forces caused his familiar resemblance.  It seems the man is laboring under the illusion that he is speaking to count Makara.  Well, Gamzee isn’t the disillusioning type.

“No no no…  That’s not it.  How about, ‘Do you know why I brought you here _?_ ”

“I don’t know sir, we captured the nobleman!  We did what we were supposed to.  The boss himself said to do it.  Said it was good money.”

 **“AND I SAY OTHERWISE!!!”** The voice is a roar.  The man takes it as such.  Gamzee returns to a quiet voice, this one even more dangerous than the first.  “And now _I’ve_ got to clean up _your_ mess.”

Gamzee sighs.  “ _So!_ I’ll need to know, where is the one you took?”

“He’s back at the hideout sir!”

“And where is that, these days.”

“Same as always sir!  The mansion on the street of verdancy, next to the lunarium.  They’ll be sending him out to Derse probably pretty soon.  I’m sorry sir!”

“So he’s still alive…”

“Yes sir, our employers were very specific about that.”

Gamzee laughs.  “Well good for them.  And good for you.  That’s the best news I’ve heard in a while.”

“What?  Why?”

“’Bit hard to put a dead man where he was when he was livin’.”

The man says nothing, and just looks at Gamzee with a questioning face.  Slowly, the look turns to horror as he seems to realize what just happened.

“No.  No no nononono, they’re going to kill me!  I’m dead! I’m-

Gamzee closes the door behind him.  The others are sitting there.

“So,” says Vriska, “It turns out he was an idiot all along.”

Gamzee considers, then sort of nods.

 

Far away, in the rather neglected Dersite castle.

Nepeta has already relayed the intelligence from before.  She also knows more, now.  Letters are being sent out.  Something about an assassination.  When she told Dirk, he went quieter than usual.  It’s like he knows something, but doesn’t want to admit it.

“We need to destroy those machines.” says Dirk.  He sighs.  “My machines.”  It is a fact.  He sighs, “But we’ve already seen the security.  We can’t do it now.  We’d be caught, and either imprisoned, or exiled, or killed.”

“So we wait ‘til they aren’t guarding it anymore,” Roxy says.  She looks down at the glass in her hand.  She sighs, and sloshes it out into the forge, which sparks most satisfyingly.  “Or we sneak in.”

Equius, unlike everyone else, has barely said a word this whole time.  He’s just sitting, looking uncomfortable.  Now he speaks.

“Well then, I could, _return_ , and act as if I merely was attempting to take a break, and ended up in troubling circumstances.  Potentially, I could try to use one, simply to test if they weren’t broken in my absence.”

He lapses into silence.

“We’d need somewhere plausible for that to work,” says Dirk.

“Well,” says Nepeta, “I know somewhere like that.”

 

That was hours ago.

Presently, Equius is _not_ in a robot, destroying other robots, he’s being interrogated by the midnight crew.  He is, as he often is, stoically quiet, answering only the questions he is asked.  The Archagent is getting fed up by now, trying to prove some treachery he can have Equius killed for.  But the location he said he was in went unsearched, so he could have been there, and there _are_ signs of someone trying to climb out.  By all appearances, he’s off the hook.  The Archagent takes a swig of something that to Equius smells ridiculously alcoholic.

Off the hook, that is, until the Draconian Dignitary whispers something in the Archagent’s ear.  It can’t have been killing, because it doesn’t produce a smile, but he sighs, and says, “So.  Looks like I can’ kill ya’.  Too ‘importan’ to da’ crown,’ apparen’ly,” he sneers.  “So we’re locking ya’ up, ‘til da’ queen needs ya’.”  He gestures at the door, and the Hegemonic Brute drags Equius out.

Down the passage he goes, through hallways and down stairs.  Or at least, down one flight of stairs.  Just beyond that, it’s into a cell.  In goes Equius, and the door clangs as the brute smashes it closed.  Cells here aren’t friendly; they are the kind where there aren’t any rats because rats aren’t stupid enough to stick around.  It is unfitting for a nobleman, by all accounts.  And yet…  Somebody isn’t doing too badly.

Equius looks off to his left and sees that he is in an extra-large cell.  This isn’t ordinary, by any stretch of the imagination.  This is luxury beyond logic for a dersite cell.  There’s even a couch, for some reason.  A wardrobe, an oven, and… a stack of letters on a writing desk?  Yet, there doesn’t seem to be anyone else in here.

Kind of confused, Equius walks over to the couch and sits down.  For a while he just sits and doesn’t do much.

After a while, there is the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway.  A dersite jailer is leading a tall man in a rather dapper hat down the hall.  He opens the door with a considerably greater deal of care than the Brute did, and the man walks in, carrying several odd objects, which he takes over to a counter by the oven.  It smells like… Cooking ingredients?  He turns around, pats away what seems to be flour, and notices Equius.  With a leisurely stride, he walks over.

He begins to speak.

 

Anyway…

While Equius is slowly discovering that in this part of the jail, things aren’t so bad, the other three of his group and quietly panicking.  Not panicking that Equius is missing, but that the roboarmy is leaving.  For all the complexities of the machinery, it isn’t too hard to make them move straight forward.  Even Dirk, to whom understanding the intricacies of the design is second nature knows they’ll have a hell of a time making them do anything very complicated, though.

 

“Another wasted trip.  And now Equius is gone.”  Dirk’s face isn’t showing any notable emotion, but he sounds disappointed.  This plan was a failure.”

Roxy nods.  Then, brightening, “Well.  If y’don’t get it one way, you do it another.”  She shrugs.  “Nepeta sneaking around was okay.”

While the others slowly begin to plan what to do next, Nepeta is just staring down as the robots clumsily shunt and bump their way out of the cavern, escorted by armed Dersite soldiers.  She seems to be searching for something.  By the time Roxy and Dirk look up, she’s gone.

 

It seems the Street of Verdancy lives up to its name.  It’s not the trees growing alongside the road, or the great quantities and qualities of grass.  It’s really the massive green mansion.  It’s completely different from anything else in Prospit, and really it’s a marvel that nobody has ever been suspicious of it… Until now.

 

The King and Queen apparently both accept the necessity for force, because along with Terezi (to ‘give an unbiased account,’ though who knows what they’ll get from a blind woman) Gamzee (It’d take more strength than anyone has to stop him) and Karkat (his whole job is literally to follow Gamzee around), they also sent a few tough palacial guards in case a diplomatic solution can’t be reached..

It’s Terezi’s idea to have Gamzee knock.  The door opens, and behind it is a man in a lime green suit and a red hat.  He doesn’t seem surprised by Gamzee, instead saying in a smooth voice, “The Doc said you’d be coming.  Come in.”  He looks at the others, “the rest of you, stay out, or you’ll regret it.”

Karkat walks straight up to the door, and in a surprisingly dangerous voice says, “I have one job,” he points at Gamzee, “See this idiot?  I’m supposed to follow him, and if you think I’m going to stay outside you’ve got another thing coming.”

 

Silence reigns for an interminable time.  The man looks at Gamzee, whose expression changes not one iota.  He looks back at Karkat, who, despite an apparent desire to act like that didn’t just happen, doesn’t move.

“Eh,” he says, and opens the door.

 

The inside of the house is just as green as the outside, to the offense of Karkat’s eyes.  He steps over the threshold, just in time to hear someone shout something after them.

There doesn’t appear to be anyone inside the house as the man in the red hat leads them on.  Slowly, they walk and climb their way deeper and deeper inside, until, after a truly tremendous flight of stairs, they stop.  The man doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.  There are two doors on the wall, and a hallway leading off in both directions.  Karkat, correctly guessing that this is where they’re going, walks to the left door and pulls it open.

 

Karkat falls back and scrambles back almost to the stairs.  The red-hatted man closes the door on the enormous grey dog that was making all the racket.

“Wrong door,” he says, scratching a spot on his cheek.  He opens the other door.  Behind it is a room, colored just the same as the rest of the mansion.  In the room is a desk, and behind it, sitting with a faint smile, is a man who has apparently never seen the sun.  At least, he looks like he hasn’t.  He doesn’t say anything as Gamzee and Karkat enter.  There is one chair on the opposite side of him, which Gamzee sits in.

“Hello,” and as Gamzee starts to speak he puts up a hand and says, “I already know who you are.”  He looks over at Karkat, with a slightly less pleased look, “and who you are.  I go by many names, and I doubt I could force you to call me anything particular, though within this mansion I am known as…” he shrugs, “Doc Scratch.”

He looks over at his subordinate.  “I believe I told you not to allow any in besides _him_ ,” the voice is even, despite the warning apparent in the words.

“Thought it’d cause more trouble to keep him out,” says the man, “‘seemed he was set on getting in.”

“Hm,” says Doc Scratch.  For a second, nobody speaks, and he continues.  “Well then, Mr. Vantas, perhaps you could leave while I talk to your friend.  My man will of course leave as well.”

Karkat grabs one of several chairs that was sitting off to the side of the room, drags it over next to Gamzee’s and sits down.

“Y’know, I get the feeling you think I’m an idiot.”

Scratch raises his eyebrows.

“See, we’re in a mansion, and if I know anything about mansions, it’s that they have a _lot_ of people in them.  Am I supposed to think that the instant I leave you’re not going to call in, like, ten people or something?”

“Tell me; what good would that do me?”

Karkat stalls as he tries to come up for a reason.

“You see, there is no plausible reason, and so-“

“Then why does it matter if I leave?” cuts in Karkat.

“…Fine,” says Doc Scratch, “You can stay, for what soothing it gives your mind.”  He pauses, “Now then, as to the actual reason I brought you here…”

 

**Author's Note:**

> By the way, if you think I made any really egregious mistakes, let me know.


End file.
